20 Steps
by Iflytez
Summary: There were so many things Vincent had yet to do. So many things he had to accomplish for himself and the people he came to care for. Well, we all have to start somewhere, for Vincent that first step was putting down the gun. VxOC


It felt like rain. The air was thick and heavy, the night hot and miserable. Rain would have been appropriate. Alas there was none, and for that Vincent Valentine was thankful. Rain would have ruined his shot, it would have ended what otherwise had been a relatively simple and uncomplicated job

He had the perfect position, a rooftop 2 blocks away. With a meticulous eye he assembled his weapon, removing one scope for another glancing up every few moments to check on his prey. This dance was coming to a close. Tracking these two through the streets of Costa Del Sol was no easy task and Vincent would be much happier once he was back at home cooling off before the rain began to fall.

On the wind there was some noise, a salsa. Five streets down was the beach, all the night-clubs and all the amenities of city life.

He looked up at his target. Man, approximately 35 years of age, suit, escorted by a woman in a red dress, beautiful. She couldn't be more than 22, brown hair down to her back. For a moment he was elated for the man, but quickly remembered why he was there. Weapon in hand he settled into a more comfortable position before bringing the item up to his eye.

It was relatively early for a Friday night, but the street was barren. The two seemed to be calling it quits. Vincent couldn't blame them, they had started rather early. An older man and some kid's dance instructor, what a pair.

He quickly twisted his scope taking the two into view. The street lamps provided plenty of light. Vincent was determined to wait for the perfect moment, that moment that would most effectively sum up the actions of the night to that point. It never failed, never disappointed, a romantic inevitability. Tragic, but it held true. Seconds squeezed by in idle chatter before the older man leaned in. Vincent breathed in as his right pointer finger squeezed the trigger. A low beep confirmed the shot was taken. Quickly he squeezed the trigger again and again. By the time they had finished he had about 10 pictures of the pair kissing. Already he had 5 from their meeting four hours prior, 20 from their dinner at 'Cape de Royale,' the premiere restaurant of Costa Del Sol, and 30 or so from their remaining evening of dancing.

According to the man's wife he was supposed to be on a business trip, but here he was with his something on the side.

The sky seemed to let out a breath and the rain began to fall. A cascade of droplets seemed to envelop the area as far as he could see. Quickly he brought the camera up again and examined the happy couple. The man was standing outside the woman's building, gesturing to himself as the rain fell. She seemed to laugh for a moment before biting her lip, reaching out and pulling him into the building by his tie. Vincent squeezed off a couple more shots before placing his camera back in his bag.

The mistakes we make for emotion and feelings. Tomorrow the 35 year olds wife would get the pictures and take half his sizable fortune, if she was feeling particularly vengeful she might track the young woman down to harass her, write whore on her car, or call at all hours of the day, it wasn't unheard of. But at least the pair had tonight. Hope it was worth it…

It was miserable weather, and a miserable job. He quickly checked his watch, it was becoming late. Just above his watch on the back of his hand in sloppy black marker was a smiley face hastily drawn by his daughter. 'Think happy thoughts,' Vincent smiled as he walked back to his car. 'Happy thoughts for a happy life.' Vincent Valentine and his dirty little camera**—**It beat the gun easily.

* * *

Vincent kicked his shoes off at the door. Not his heavy metal plated boots from before, but some ordinary walking shoes, handy for a tourist or someone who spends their days wandering from point A in hopes of someday finding point B. His coat he hung on the door. The apartment he lived in was fairly large. Big kitchen that opened into a dining room and living room. In the back were two full baths, three bedrooms and a small study.

From the counter he grabbed a hand towel that he ran through his short black hair before hanging it over the back of a chair. He had only recently gotten used to it, some days in the shower he would still run his hands though his thick black mane only to discover it missing. He glanced back at his wrist and smiled.

Approaching the fridge his gaze was drawn to his list. One through twenty. Steps for a better happier life. Barrett's idea initially as the WRO and AVALANCHE were recovering from their assault on Midgar. Trading shots, Barrett asked him what he planned to do now, full time member of the WRO? or wandering vagrant? He didn't know and admitted so.

Number one was already crossed off_: Find a job that does not involve killing and or maiming people._ The first one was his idea. If another plague or grand monster challenged the planet he would rise to the occasion as he had numerous times before, but until then maybe he would take it easy, set down roots and what not. For he was no longer Vincent Valentine gunslinger extraordinaire, but rather Vincent Valentine free lance photographer and PI. The world had changed much.

Two was gone: _Get your own place and keep a room mate._ Shelke had written that one down before looking up at him hopeful eyes. Since then they played the happy family. Father and daughter. Shalua had developed an enzyme weeks after the battle that nullified Shelke's mako dependence and would allow her to age. For the past five months Shalua had been in Midgar attending to the medical needs of the remaining Deep Ground Soldiers. It would still be some time before she was free from her work. But there was a third room for whenever she decided to visit. Since then, Vincent had attended PTA meetings and school functions with Shelke. She probably could have skipped ahead to Midgar University, but there was little else to do in this point in time.

As he opened the fridge Shelke skipped in.

"How was school?" She was in the fifth grade, in a public school near downtown.

Shelke sat down in on of the chairs against the kitchen island. "Boring. We started to learn geometry, and then I fell asleep." She leaned forward, "Mrs. Harris thinks I'm slow." She intended to stay incognito as long as possible.

Vincent just laughed. Months earlier Shelke was analyzing weather patterns from the past 30 years, and incorporating what she learned into attack patterns and target progressions. At home he might find her reading about Mako energy harvesting or taking apart their cable box so they could get the premium channels, but at school she was bored, and stuck it out for recess with the other children. Her teachers might call him in for a conference, but the principal made sure that nothing appeared on her permanent record. He was made aware of who they were, and in case of an emergency was to contact Tifa Lockhart or Shalua Rui or himself. Three very famous names.

He smiled at her before he replied. "Am I going to have to meet with her?" He didn't need a reminder to smile for his daughter.

Shelke smirked. "She's taking maternity leave for the remainder of the year."

Vincent picked up some chicken from a platter in the fridge. Once a week they would make enough of something for three or four meals in case they wanted something home cooked without too much effort. This week it was chicken and rice. "And what did you have for dinner."

"An ice cream sundae." She replied. Somehow he didn't doubt it, and it showed when he looked at her. "It's healthy, there was a banana."

He failed to hide the smirk, but quickly pulled a straight face. "You can't tell your school about this, they'll take you away." He knew he didn't have to reiterate that part, but there was something comforting about the motions. It felt… cutesey, and normal…

"There were cherries too..." She quipped. Vincent tried, but couldn't keep from laughing.

They carried on that way talking about anything from school, work, to Vincent's latest job before she drifted off to bed. Vincent had just finished washing his dishes when his mind wandered back to the list. In his mind he recounted what he had and had not done so far.

Number XIII, Marlene's request was finished, '_Dress like a sane person'. _Since he left he had cut his hair, changed his clothes, and in general tried to stop being so creepy**—**or vampy**—**as Yuffie would call it. The Red Bandanna he kept in his pocket at most times, but the cape and gauntlet he left in his closet.

Number 7, from Reeve, '_Run a marathon for a charity_', finished. The World First research foundation was enormously grateful. He was the only veteran to run the full 26.2 miles. Reeve himself was only able to do 7 before nearly passing out.

Yuffie wrote out number 8, _'Collect Something_'. Yuffie had materia, and Vincent now had deltiology. Post card collecting. It was the third most common collection type after stamps and coins. It was a small collection, but Vincent was hopeful that during summer vacation Shelke and he might be able to travel about some more and increase his collection.

He was getting pretty good at number 9, '_Develop a sense of humor'_. Vincent would like to think he could make Shelke laugh, and he had become one of those guys everyone crowds around at the water-cooler at work. However it still did not feel completely natural. Number 9 he left circled.

However number 11 had been a doozie. A request from Cid, '_Have a one-night stand_'. You could try, but something like that oft times ends up a pot shoot. Certainly Vincent had never gone looking for number 11, but once it simply happened.

It had been a night not unlike this night at a sparsely crowded bar near the beach. Shalua had taken Shelke with her to Junon for the weekend, so Vince had the night off. She was dressed in green and had the eyes to match, sitting at the bar slowly stirring her drink, some fruity looking red concoction with an umbrella. He approached her, you couldn't nuke the smile off his face. She had just pushed some strands of her shoulder length blond hair from her eyes before she turned to regard him. She was nearly a foot shorter than him. He had complimented her shoes, she smiled, said his daughter owned a similar looking pair, she blinked. It was the first thing that came to his mind. When he realized what he said bit his cheek and tried not to laugh. Her eyes crinkled and her dimples were pulled wide in a smile. She noted that his hands had no tan lines for a ring. He replied, that was because he was never married. He bought her a drink. She asked what happened to her. Truthfully he replied, 'I never knew her'.

She smelt of a mix of jasmine and rose, and was responsive to his every touch. She never asked him about his scars, for which he was thankful, and he never asked her what she was doing by herself at that bar nursing what certainly wasn't her first drink. She didn't strike him as the type to frequent such places. For several glorious hours they passed the time before they fell asleep, bodies intertwined. In the morning she was gone. All his clothes were lovingly folded and left on the table. His wallet, watch, etc were all present, except for 20 Gill replaced with a note, 'I.O.U. cab fair'. His list which had been in his wallet was open on the desk. Number 11 had been crossed out in a deep shade of red lipstick. The imprint of two red lips in the margin. She didn't leave any information, not even her name. It wouldn't be a one-night-stand if she did.

* * *

Saturday morning, Vince woke early and spent his morning on the balcony watching the sun rise, as he did most days. Shelke, on the other hand, loved to sleep in whenever possible, she claimed it was in those moments between sleep and awake that the brain was truly free.

Number 4 was Red XIII's request; _Take time out of each day to appreciate your surroundings, and all that you possess._ Red XIII, ever the spiritualist, had returned to the Cosmo Canyon and carried on giving lectures in Bugenhagen's absence. The teachings of the Cosmo Canyon had 

very nearly become a religion in the days following Meteor, but such fanaticism had died down. Mentally Vincent took inventory of his life, what he had, what he wanted. Where their future lay. It looked bright.

_'Their future_...' He couldn't help but wonder when he truly began to regard Shelke as his daughter. She had the mind of a 19 year old, the body of a child. He the age of a man in his early sixties, and body half that. She had always wanted to go to Wonder Square, which was a distinct possibility if she could manage to stay awake in class. Perhaps he would bring it up during lunch.

He pushed his sun-glasses up as the morning sun erased the remnants of last night's rain. In a few minutes Mrs. Phillips, who woke with the sunrise, would come out to her own balcony and they would chat. She was an older woman, about Vincent's natural age, and he couldn't help but feel kindred to her in that respect. Her grand children were in Kalm, on the next continent, and Icicle Inn to the North. About 2 years ago she and her husband came here to retire. Since then he had died of a heart failure, and she was all alone. Her husband was roughly 15 years her senior.

Maybe once a year, each of her two children respectively would come and visit, but Vincent was yet to meet them. Sometimes they would have dinner with the older woman. Briefly, Vincent wondered if he should invite her along to Wonder Square. Money certainly was not a problem; he still had enough to retire on several times over. It might do her well to get out of the city once in awhile. Her home phone number was scribbled in along side number 12: _'Make small talk with someone who could use the company._' A second request from Reeve, ever concerned with the mental and physical health of those around him. He felt making life better for others would inevitably make life easier for yourself, and practiced his medicine through the WRO. Vincent knew that depended entirely on those around you, but Reeve would be O.K. He had the Turks and the remnants of Shinra watching his back.

A few minutes passed before Mrs. Phillips emerged with two cups of tea. Vincent smiled at her before standing up and leaning over the railing to retrieve one.

* * *

After lunch father and daughter decided to further explore Costa Del Sol. Number 6, _Get on a bus or train and see where it goes_, had been crossed out for some weeks, but they made a habit of it whenever they were bored. The T tram had taken them to a tourist district near the waterfront. Aimlessly they were wandering between docks. Shelke, arms out-stretched, balanced along a curb. Vincent held one of his hands out ready to catch her arm if she fell. His mind began to wander, and he reflected on who they were.

"Stop that..."

Shelke faltered for a moment, and Vincent grabbed her hand. "Stop what now?"

"Stop thinking. You're doing just fine." She waved off his hand and kept balancing.

"You never wonder if this is where we're supposed to be."

"Every time I fall asleep in class. I was abducted as a child, and I can go back to being a DG SOLDIER whenever I want. Now that I'll age, this is the only opportunity I'll have to act like a child." Shelke looked up at him. "Does my age bother you?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "You realize I am in fact old enough to be your grand father.

"Hah, how could I forget." She smiled to herself, "My old man."

"No, it doesn't."

"Good." She turned and stared at him for a moment. "You think about number 19 any?"

_Number 19..._ "You're not hoping Shalua and me..."

Shelke suddenly stopped and turned towards him. "God no." She hopped off the curb and pushed into him, "Stay away from my sister!"

Vincent couldn't help but laugh as he stumbled to the side. He walked back next to her and put his hand on the side of her head. She reached up with both hands and loosely grasped it as they walked.

It all seemed so natural now. Father and daughter, but what were they really? Warriors running from their pasts? Like souls given a second try? Did she truly think of him as a father? Did he really believe she was his daughter now? If he asked would it ruin the illusion? Would they ever be able to restore it? His insecurities ran wild. Was any of this real? Or was it some euphoric experience brought out of a desire for normality? Would he wake up one day and wonder how he wasted the past few months? Would she?

"Dad." Shelke's voice cut through to him.

Vincent turned and kneeled before her. Something in her voice just stood out. "What's wrong?"

"Stop that... We're doing fine." She smiled at him.

"You know I love you right?" He couldn't let his own insecurities hurt their relationship. He made a commitment. He was her father. That came first now.

"I love you too dad." She held out her arms. He pulled her into a hug.

* * *

Vincent needed a new hobby, part of him wondered what golfing was like, and another part leaned towards model airships.

Number 17: _'Blow your money on something you've always wanted'._ A recommendation from Reno he scribbled down before propositioning the barmaid. It tied in well with number 15: _'Get a non-work related hobby_.' from Rude, the man found solace in tiny boats fitted in glass jars. Standard Christmas present.

A nice camera had been his first try at a hobby. He bought a top of the line beginners Digital Single Lens Reflex or D-SLR camera for nearly 1000 Gil. That was just for the base model, an upgraded lens and some filters. It had recently become his line of work, so 15 was back in the running.

While bragging about it at work, his superior at Del Sol Investigations found out first hand his secret with framing (targeting) and using present light sources to illuminate his subjects (crawling around for hours to find the perfect shot)—all the skills he previously employed with a high-powered rifle. The revelation to his boss opened up whole new fields of work: surveillance, dirty pictures of cheating spouses, even photographing people of interest for the police. A friend of a friend found out his apartment had a marvelous view of the ocean and docks. After taking some shots of a new cruise liner he suddenly became a freelance photographer. There wasn't much work. What he did shoot was primarily for a rag that made tourist oriented newspapers and pamphlets for activities around the city. It wasn't much of a job, but it summed up the time between solving mysteries and photographing cheating husbands, and as an added benefit Vincent was now privy to all the interesting activities about town.

The relatively benign nature of his work allowed him to scratch off number 5 from Elena: '_Stop carrying around a gun._' He still kept his guns, some locked in the closet others in a safe deposit box, but for the most part they had not been seen in over a month. Later, in fact, number 5 became one of Elena's career goals. She now worked as the P.R. director for one of the larger construction and restoration firms still in Midgar. The change in life-style came shortly after Kadaj's downfall. Elena decided the high powered life-style simply wasn't worth the risk. After witnessing the nature of her imprisonment Vincent for one couldn't blame her. Tseng too had left shortly after the three brothers had been dealt with, and now operated a black and white bar in Sector 2. While he was out of the game, he provided and enforced neutral grounds for the players. From what Vincent understood, membership to the bar alone seemed to require corporate sponsorship. It was a good set-up.

Three requests from fellow Turks. He could still feel it, that killer instinct the Turks pumped into you. In closed areas his eyes sought out armed men. If he had to leave, what was the fastest route? How did the people around him walk? What did they do and how could he use it? The others probably felt it with just as much force. It was different than SOLDIERS. They were taught to fight on a variety of battlefields. But he didn't regret having it, at some earlier time maybe he would have. Now it was his extra sense, his hyper awareness, and it made him safer. Perhaps he had done some disreputable things in the past, but since then he had more than made up for them. Forgive and forget, whatever that meant. He was different, the world was different, and certainly the Turks were different.

Vincent glanced down at his list. Number 15 was still crossed off, and Vincent wondered if he should circle it or something to mark that it was now void. For now he would just pencil in a large dot next to the number 15, and erase it once he found something else to do. He reclined on his couch, and contemplated golf.

* * *

Vincent could not stand the PTA. Certainly he could appreciate what they were about and what they did, but the physical act of attending their meetings was becoming more and more tiresome, and he hated how they ate away at his Saturday afternoons.

The bureaucracy of the PTA, the incessant nagging and stringency to the rules set forth by themselves was painful to watch. And of course there were those members whose lives seemed to revolve around the rules and regulations, and they just made things so much more painful for the rest of them.

Thank god these meetings only took place once a month.

He was always careful to wear a nice suit and give a good impression, but these long meetings in uncomfortable chairs made even the smallest inconveniences unbearable. Presently Vincent along with roughly 200 other parents were sitting ahead of a stage in the school gym/cafeteria.

An older mother and a relatively younger mother were arguing over the merits of a dark chocolate theme to the school bake sale. It would be another 10 minutes of arguing and then there would be a vote. Apparently 'setting a theme would limit what people felt they were able to make', however 'that wasn't necessarily true and it was just a suggestion anyways. It wouldn't be a requirement so much of a guideline'. Nonetheless, it would seem 'dark chocolate sounded dirty'.

Vincent rubbed his temples. When the vote came he was in favor of dark chocolate, which earned a dirty comment from the woman to his right. Another reason Vincent hated the PTA, a

good portion of the female teachers and parents were in a constant state of adoration of Vincent and his single parent status.

Word of single Vincent Valentine and his mother-less daughter spread like wild fire at their first open house. Everyone either found it utterly adorable or too sad. Shelke made Vincent agree to a pact to smile and change the subject whenever someone would bring up the subject of her mother.

Needless to say he was quite popular with half the adult population at the school. Certainly he was not against dating or going out for coffee, it was simply that everyone there knew him as single parent Vincent Valentine, photographer. No one knew he was formerly of AVALANCHE and a current special operative of the WRO. But engaging in a relationship without that sorted out prior felt wrong. Vincent frowned at the thought, but didn't sweat it. He was sure some opportunity would present itself.

The meeting moved forward towards advertising. As it had for the Spring Fling a month prior people started listing who they knew. The names of some city-council members came up, governor, etc. etc. then inevitably, 'did anyone know anybody in AVALANCHE or the WRO?' Vincent's eyes scanned the crowd: apparently someone near the front owned property adjacent to Cloud Strife's villa; another person had sold drills at some point to Barrett Wallace; someone else met Cid Highwind at a book signing.

It was rare that anyone would speak out his name. At one point someone joked about him sharing a name with the famous Vincent Valentine, and everyone laughed, but that's what it was to all of them, a big joke. They had all seen the pictures, after Meteor, Kadaj and Omega, and if the cape and bandana had done their jobs they would never have had a clear look at his face.

Vincent preferred it that way for now, and it just happened to coincide with number 14, _keep a secret identity for as long as possible._ A challenge as far as it goes from the most private of AVALANCHE's members, Cloud Strife. Cloud who if able would have gone back in time and erased his name from what lists and rosters heroes are inscribed on preferring instead to go unsung.

Luckily it ran counter to number 18: _Use your status as a hero to get laid_. He'd get to that later.

Privately Vincent wondered just how they would react if they ever figured out who he was. Would they fawn all over him? Would they feel betrayed? Impressed? He smiled at their shock. Someday maybe he would find out.

Briefly the PTA went over the various members of AVALANCHE and queried whether or not they would be able to appear at the school bake sale. Vincent scanned the crowd again, but his eyes met someone onstage, green eyes, and short blond hair. What on Earth was she doing at a PTA meeting?

* * *

4AM Sunday morning. 'Wutaian Ninja Strike 3: Out for Blood', was playing on the flat-screen. Vincent was digesting the most recent plot twist, Shelke was trying not to fall asleep, head in his lap. Number 10 was underway: _'Stage an all night marathon of something normal people do.'_ A gift from Denzel. Apparently his family had an old tradition of camping out in their living room once every few months and watching old Mideelian musicals. They had tried musicals last time, but both ended up asleep before 1am. This time they moved onto action films.

This particular twist was a bit hard to follow. The masked ninja was now dying in the arms of the protagonist. He or she had been with him from the very beginning, overt and covertly the protagonist was shielded from harm by the ninja he came to know as Black Mask.

Shelke offered a yawn before readjusting her feet. Vincent drew lazy circles in her scalp with one hand.

"Who do you think she is?" Shelke asked.

"She?"

"The masked ninja. Definitely a woman."

"I don't know… It could be a man. The best friend from child-hood, or the dojo master from earlier."

"You're wrong, it's a woman and she'll probably die in this scene." She yawned again. Perhaps they would stop after this movie.

The Red Blood Ninja (RBN) was a loner, you learned that in Ninja Strike 2, when he murders his ninja-partner after he learns of his dealings with the Midgarian Mafias. RBN had stabbed him through the throat before confronting the evil foreigners. The one person he cared more for than his own life, RBN nearly died earlier that movie in order to save him. Sad. It felt like a parallel into his own life, but Vincent committed his crime through inaction.

And here was RBN again, beside the one person who tried to help him, like he helped his partner. And what had happened to Black Mask, she was dying in RBN's arms. Was it bad luck? or did RBN's status as a loner demand he live that way and anything that interfered had to die? Perhaps bleakest, any thing he got close to dies, the reason he confined himself to the mountain dojo at the beginning of the movie, like Vincent had his coffin. Cursed.

Both their penances were eventually interrupted to deal with their mistakes. RBN's to deal his ancestral arch enemies; Vincent's to face down his demons.

His stream of thought was broken by a shallow snore. Shelke had fallen asleep. His glance jumped back to the screen. RBN was pulling back the Black Mask, to reveal her identity. The TV let out a small blip before the screen turned black. Vincent placed the controller down on the table beside the couch before getting up. Perhaps some stories were better left unfinished. Gently he picked up Shelke and moved her sleeping body back to her room.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon found Vincent standing over a stove, waiting for his pie to finish when Shelke arrived home from school. He called out to her, but she ignored him, half walk half stomping to her room. This was his fifth pie of the day. It had been Tifa's request, number 16 that Vincent _become a wizard in the kitchen,_ then come work for her at the 7th heaven. At the moment the PTA seemed to need him more.

Dare he say it, he had become quite good at this, he thought to himself as he cut two pieces of an already finished pecan pie. If Tifa still ran the 7th heaven, he might just consider it. As it was she and Cloud decided to move onto other projects since then, now they were trainers/spokespeople for the WRO. Tifa still owned the bar, but someone else ran it.

Shelke's door opened, and a much calmer young woman walked out to the kitchen and sat down. Vincent grabbed a couple of forks then sat one of the plates down in front of her.

"Problems?" Vincent queried before cutting into his pie.

Shelke poked around the pie for a moment. "I fell asleep in class again…"

"Shelke…"

"That's not the problem. She looked at my grades and feels…" Shelke looked off to the sides with an annoyed look, "She feels I should take an aptitude test, and wants you to enroll me in the honors class."

He poured two glasses of milk for the two of them. "What's the problem then?"

Shelke let out sigh. "They're only offered at a different school." The pieces were beginning to come together.

"And you want to stay with your friends." Moving and integrating into a new community hadn't been the easiest thing for Shelke, especially when it came to school. At first she was entirely too quiet and unfamiliar with whatever interests young girls. It had taken her some time and work, but she now had friends she loved. Vincent took a sip of his milk. "Luckily she can't do that without my permission.

"She wants to see you tomorrow. Apparently there is also something wrong with my attitude, I guess I just wasn't thrilled enough to switch schools." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and bitterness. She was staring down at her pie and had what Vincent could only describe as an angry pout. He almost cracked a smile, but didn't want to be condescending.

"So, how do we handle this?" She stopped poking her pie and looked up at him. "Do I not want you to make you change schools, or is it your decision?"

"If it's you, you'll seem irresponsible, and she'll likely try to override you." Vincent was taken aback for a moment. "She's the type," she assured him.

"You won't hear the end of it if it's your decision. You're the one going to classes with her."

"So we need a hybrid. I don't want to leave and you don't want to move me. But what's the hook?"

"Death in the family? I want to create stability? Some sort of trauma would do best." He suggested.

"I don't know, we don't want to make a story we can't back up."

"Simple, we moved here from Edge following the attacks. A number of acquaintances died, and I'm just trying to create some normalcy in your life. You're really smart, but you want to stay with your friends-"

"So I may join the honors program in the future. But now is too soon." Shelke began cutting up another piece of pie. "The Deep Ground massacre was big enough for her not to question it."

Vincent studied his pie for a moment, when he looked up Shelke was staring at him. "Believable?"

Shelke nodded, "I'd believe it." She smiled at him and took another bite of her pie.

"Feel better?"

"Much. You're meeting with her tomorrow afternoon at 4:30." They sat in relatively comfortable silence for a moment. "Sorry I got mad earlier."

This time Vincent laughed at her, "To tell you the truth, it was actually a bit refreshing," She rolled her eyes at him. "besides, now I another chance to lie and manipulate. It's like I'm a Turk again." It was her turn to laugh.

* * *

Part of him knew this was inevitable, from the moment he saw her at the PTA meeting, since Shelke announced her old teacher was on paternity leave. He saw this coming when they first met, green eyes, green dress. And he had been dreading it since. But he was none the less shocked when they met again face to face.

Her classroom was 503, the third class in the fifth grade. The door wall was lined with book shelves for all the different text books the students used which came a little above Vincent's waist. Above that were plexi-glass windows that looked out onto the main hallway.

Six columns of five child size desks occupied the center of the room. Ahead of them was some walking space and against the wall a chalk board and a few maps. Tucked away in a corner was an overhead, and in the opposite corner the teacher's desk.

She had looked up at him when he entered, and quickly did a double take. He suddenly felt under-dressed. Vincent wore some khaki pants, a button down shirt with an island print and a leather jacket having just arrived from work. She was wearing a white blouse, black skirt, flats, and some wire rimmed glasses.

He noticed her mouth was slightly open as he walked towards her, he wondered if his own was as well.

She held out her hand when he got to her desk and tentatively asked, "Mr. Valentine?" He was not sure if you would describe the way her pinky was just slightly separated from her other three fingers as dainty or somewhat charming. He took her hand gently and shook.

Vincent nodded his head, unsure just what etiquette demanded for further dealings with a one-night stand. She gave him a tight lipped smile as she sat down at her desk, gesturing for him to sit as well. All that was available was a child's seat. Vincent slowly sat down and bent his right leg over his left knee. Not uncomfortable at all. The name plate on her desk read Ms. Bell.

'Not the least bit uncomfortable Ms. Bell.'

She made an awkward gesture to her desk. "I'm sure Shelke has explained why I've asked you here,"

"She has, but I'd like to hear it from you if you don't mind."

Ms. Bell removed her glasses and nervously looked up at Vincent. "Shelke is a wonderful student, and a joy to have in class," she wore a wide smile as she spoke, it was infections, and he found himself returning the smile. "And her academic records are impeccable, straight A's. However she has on occasion been falling asleep in class, more specifically math and science."

"She's not having problems in anything else?"

"Oh no, on the contrary, history, art, music, reading, you can't keep her still. Mainly it is just math and science that concern me." Her eyes lit up as she spoke as if she just remembered something. "Also, some of the books she brings in for free read time. She had a copy of 'The Tale of the Lotus'," Vincent had seen her with that book. "I asked her to describe it for the class, she said it was quote, 'the oldest surviving document surrounding Wutaian history dating back 1700 years'. Last week she had a political novel about the rise of Shinra Energy Co. I had to read that book during college, you could write your thesis on 'The Tale of the Lotus'."

Big problem. "I don't see the problem here. As you've said, she has great grades, and shows great enthusiasm in most subjects, I'll speak-"

"She's bored Mr. Valentine," it almost came out as a laugh, "and I'm worried we're holding her back." Her mouth was open in a smile, her eyes pleading with him to understand, to share her epiphany, his daughter was a genius. But this wasn't news to him. His smile slowly faded. Who'd have thought having a genius for a child would ever prove to be problem in this way. Locked deep underground it was her brain that received the greatest workout.

Where was Mrs. Harris who thought his daughter was below the bar, and was content to leave her in class? "There are programs for students like your daughter, accelerated programs, that could challenge and teach her much more than I ever could. But I'm having some trouble finding them now."

He already knew of these programs. They had been shut down 4 years ago after Meteor. One of his first jobs with the WRO, investigate Shinra subsidiaries. Shinra Education and Scholarship was an organization created to identify and cater to students of the highest grade. They offered a top notch curriculum, fantastic staff, and facilities second to none. Also, they were surprising affordable. Invitations to join the school were coveted and fought over by children genius and ambitious enough to get in. The reality of the matter was, the entire program was designed as a recruitment boarding school for children. 90 of its high school graduates moved onto jobs with SOLDIER, Shinra Power and Energy or some other Shinra owned company.

They were gone now. The program had nearly put any similar such program out of business. Anything left would rest on the expensive side. That would be his out, they couldn't afford it. He did hold two jobs after all.

"You're talking about boarding schools? Like the ones in Midgar and Junon?" He shook his head no, "I'm not sending my daughter away, and I simply couldn't afford to send her there."

"Ok then. There is an honors program at another school a few miles from here. We can have her transferred out there before the end of term if you want." Her eyes had darkened somewhat, but none of the excitement had left.

This was going to be much harder than he imagined. "Unfortunately that is not an option either."

For a moment her smile was gone, but came back before she spoke. "Why not?" She almost sounded flushed.

"We left Edge in a hurry. My chief concern right now is creating a stable environment for Shelke. A sense or normalcy if you will. Staying in the same school is just one factor in this." Her smile was gone. "I'm not ruling out the possibility of her joining an honors program, far from it, but for now my greater concern is with keeping her in one school where she's comfortable."

"I see." Her mouth was a straight line. Her eyes were a mix of disappointment and anger. None of which carried through to her voice. "I've read Mrs. Harris's reports. She'll make new friends, I promise you." She felt fiercely for her students. Vincent could sympathize, in fact he almost felt guilty.

"If there are any other concerns?" His dismissal was easy and blunt; certainly she wouldn't be happy about that.

"What about what your daughter wants?"

"This is what she wants. And you'll have a difficult time convincing either of us otherwise." Vincent put on a stern face. "If there's nothing left to talk about." Vincent stood up to leave. Maybe this wasn't the best way he could have handled this, but leaving her angry wasn't the worst case scenario.

"One last question," He turned to face her. "Number one on your list was to find a job that did not involve killing or maiming people. Should I be concerned for Shelke."

And there it was, worst case.

He turned back to face her, "Shelke is in a safe, stable, supportive home. That's all you need to know. And until it begins affecting her academic performance or well-being, it's all you'll ever need to know." He left afterwards.

* * *

He explained his meeting in detail to Shelke when he arrived home. Of course he left out the list and their one night stand. It came as no surprise when the next day she was given an assignment to write about her parents' occupation.

Shelke chose to write about his job as a photographer, and just gleaned being a P.I. focusing on his cooperation with the police. But somehow Vincent knew that wouldn't be the end of it. The woman was much too persistent. Luckily she would not be able to move up the chain of command, the principal was aware of their situation, with any luck her concerns would end with him.

But luck was not on his side, and alas a week later Ms. Bell made her next move. Vincent was sitting in his office, when his boss arrived. Mick Stark was a retired burglary detective. He lost his badge about fifteen years prior after he was fingered by internal affairs. He openly acknowledged his guilt, but maintains there should have been more loyalty within the department. Loyalty was a big thing to him. He was a good man, but like too many others, he cut corners for the little amenities.

Mick stepped into his office and dropped down into one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs then asked, "You know our policy about investigating our own right?"

It was taboo. "We don't."

"Exactly." Mick propped his feet up on the corner of Vincent's desk and continued, "And you understand that we don't release the names of our clients without a higher court order."

The message was clear.

Vincent sighed as he stood up and walked to the door. "I'm taking the rest of the day off. I need to speak to my daughter's teacher."

"Good man." Mick called out as the door shut behind him. 'God how embarrassing was that.' He and Ms. Bell were going to have a little talk.

* * *

It was 4:30 now, school was being dismissed. Most of the children were usually assembled in the back of the school to catch their bus, Shelke included; a number of others would wait in the front to be picked up by their parents. All the guards and a number of the teachers would be with them. Vincent entered through the side. During his first visit he liberated a number of the Visitor's badges non-faculty were required to wear at all times. One was now pinned to the breast of his jacket.

If she was present he'd go ahead and sign himself into the school when he left. If she was with the students he'd come back some other day. This was probably the stupidest thing he had ever done, but he couldn't have her looking into who they were. If he ran into security he would be in serious trouble, but he needed to confront her and tell her to stop. If that didn't work, he would speak to the principal, go higher if necessary.

What he would actually say was still a mystery even to him. A minute later he was there at room 503. Vincent looked down at his feet and wondered for a moment what he would say. It was then he noticed he was still wearing sneakers. Really he hadn't thought this through, but this woman was just infuriating. Who was she to just come into their lives and start meddling? He stood outside her classroom and began collecting his thoughts, but was interrupted as she exited the classroom.

"Mr. Valentine?"

Vincent nearly jumped, but managed to stay composed. "Ms. Bell…"

"Can I help you?"

"Ye… Yes, I wanted to speak to you." It came out sounding somewhat confused and desperate even.

"Is this professional or personal?" She crinkled her eyes before glancing around the hall. They were alone, again which struck him. Of the three times they had met, they always ended up alone, and Vincent always wore an island print shirt. That simple fact bothered, but he wasn't quite sure why…

Vincent waved his finger at her, "I don't always wear shirts with palm trees." 'what the hell was that?!'

"So it's personal?"

'Get back on track', "That depends on you. Hiring a PI to tail me. Professional or personal?"

That did it, the shock was written clear across her face. "I… I uh…"

With that Vincent took back the conversation, "You got the idea from my daughter's essay. I'm a PI and photographer, remember?"

Ms. Bell had the good grace to look ashamed. "How could I forget… I went to your organization."

"Not mine, but you get the idea." He went ahead and lied. Why? He wasn't sure.

She let out a light scoff then put on an apologetic smile, "I owe you an apology Mr. Valentine, going to a Private Detective Agency was out of line." Her eyes never left her feet

"But you're not going to stop until you understand why exactly I'm not enrolling Shelke in that honors course."

She let out a soft laugh and shook her head before looking Vincent in the eyes. "No… Its just that, she's brilliant, and you know that obviously, she's your kid." She lightly shoved his arm.

'Did she just initiate physical contact?' Memories of times long ago filtered into his head. Late nights at bars and other singles locations. He blinked. 'What were they talking about?'

"And then there was that list, and I was just worried that you or she," her voice dropped some in volume, "might be in some trouble."

His eyes narrowed, "So you were worried about _our_ safety?"

"Mainly Shelke's, but yours as well." She bit her cheek to hide a smile. He was secretly elated.

'So it was personal.' He took in a breath. "Let me assure you then, there are no outstanding threats or dangers to either one of us. We came for our own benefit and privacy."

She almost laughed. "And I hired a private investigator."

"Let me make it up to you." 'What was he doing?' Most of him was panicking, the rest just confused.

This time she did laugh, "Make it up to me?"

"I worried you. Let me reassure you that Shelke and I are safe and sound." He smiled at her.

Her eyes danced over him, "Mr. Valentine, are you asking me out on a date?"

"What is your first name?" he drew it out some.

"Josephine."

"Actually, Josephine, I was asking to arrange a Parent-Teacher Conference, but I'm not averse to the idea of a date." He gave her his warmest smile, and she in turn briefly moved a hand to cover her own smile. How long had it been since he had played this game? Years? Decades even. Lucrecia was the last woman he had ever courted. How easily he had slipped back into the role? There was no skill involved, it was… instinct… This was a sign, was he moving on? Was he ready, or was it her?

"Let's see how the conference goes first." She reached out with her right hand and touched his wrist. "And we need to hear what Shelke thinks." They both shared a moment of silence. "I'll see you around Mr. Valentine, Vincent."

"You too Ms. Bell."

With that she turned and left, Vincent backed up a few feet before turning and leaving through the side entrance.

His mind wandered for a moment before he realized the full implications of what he had done. Then he started to panic.

* * *

"YOU WHAT?!" Shelke's reaction was… expected.

"I invited her home for dinner. I figured if she saw us as a normally functioning family she would get off our backs." Half-truths, but if Shelke couldn't accept that answer, what chance was there of her accepting his real motivations.

She turned to him and glared, "You like my teacher." Vincent blinked, "Just a week ago we were practicing routines to deceive her. Outside of the two of us and Shalua, only one other person has ever been here." She leaned in a bit closer; her voice was venomous and mouth a frown. "And Miss Phillips cooks for us. You keep all people at an arm's distance because you're paranoid and scared."

"Scared?" There was a bit of an edge to his voice.

"Scared. You've been hurt, you've been burned all by people you loved, people you brought into your life, and now you're doing it again."

"There is no guarantee that's going to happen. Its just dinner, I'm not marrying her-"

"But it's not just your life you're involving her in." Shelke turned away, she was breathing heavy. She was crying, and she was lying.

"You're not worried about me. You don't want her involved in our lives." What was this? Before this honors situation Shelke thought the world of Josephine, she had hated Mrs. Harris. And now she was acting like the poor woman strangled her cat.

Shelke just turned around and looked at him, "You just don' get it!" she spat before storming off to her room.

Vincent stared after her. 'They really were a family.'

* * *

Shelke had not come out of her room for a couple hours now, and Vincent wasn't sure if he should go in after her. Then a thought occurred to him and he reached for his cell phone. Tifa probably had parents she hated at some point or another. He would have called Yuffie but my no means did the ninja-thief-princess of Wutai have the normal childhood Vincent was hoping Tifa had.

The phone rang twice before she picked up.

"Vincent? How's it going?" she sounded excited.

"Shhh... not so loud." he replied.

"Oh... how's it going?" This time her voice was muffled somewhat.

"I'm having a bit of a problem, and I was hoping you could give me some advice."

"Problems with Shelke?"

Vincent glanced at her room; there were two shadows in the crack of her door. "I think she's listening..."

"OF COURSE I'M LISTENING!" she screamed through the door.

Vincent shut the front door and began pacing the hall outside.

"Vincent? Is everything OK?" Concern, at last.

"I think I did something stupid. I invited a woman to come eat at our home."

He swore he heard a scoff, whether it came from the phone or from the entry way to his apartment before it was locked behind him would remain a mystery.

"I see..."

Instantly his right hand reached for the door knob and he attempted to fling it open. It wouldn't budge, and his keys were in his jacket pocket "Shelke! Open this door!" Desperately he put his ear to the door and listened for some reply, there were footsteps and another door slammed shut. He winced.

"You want to talk about it?"

Vincent let out a defeated whimper. He did.

* * *

Vincent relocated to the roof. About an hour later he finished. He explained everything again from the honors program to his one night stand. Every now and then she would chime in with a question, but for the most part she remained silent. The conversation was exhausting, but by the end he too had a much clearer image of the situation.

"You know..." Tifa began, "my mother died when I was 6." She seemed to let out a breath. "I remember when I was 16, there was a baker who moved into town. Her sister was pregnant and ran our neighborhood bakery. God what was her name? Sheila or Shirley or something… Anyways, Sheila was from Gonganga, she was young and single. Whenever we went to the bakery Sheila and my dad would talk. I never cared for her, but after awhile my dad would stop by even when we were full on bread."

"He fell in love with her?"

"He fell for her." Tifa amended. "I told him point blank that if he ever loved my mother he would stop. It broke his heart but he did." Tifa went silent for a moment before continuing, "I wish I hadn't. Life is too short to be unhappy. But I was too young to realize that. Sometimes I wonder if I would have ended up with a baby brother or sister," Her voice took on a light melancholy, "then I remember Sephiroth killed everyone anyways."

The sadness oozed from her voice. "Do you want to talk about it?"

As quickly as it came it was gone. "No, you called about Shelke. You just need to talk to her try to make her understand."

"The situation is a bit different." Completely different.

"Is it? I felt if my father got over my mom he would stop loving me. But who is Shelke now? Part Lucrecia, part little girl? From the way Reeve talks about it, you had charmed her well before she ever absorbed Lucrecia's files, but imagine how she felt afterwards. There was this older matron, now occupying a deep part of her own mind, and the former's affections for you were plugged in right along side her own. Shelke knew how you felt about Lucrecia; she feels it as if it was her. By moving on, it's as if you're rejecting Lucrecia's memory and Shelke along side them. Lucrecia's experiences as a person, she's like the mother Shelke lost."

Was it that simple? She had asked about Lucrecia a number of times, and he never had a negative thing to say about her. Was she simply curious about his former lover? Or inquisitive about her symbolic mother?

"So what are you going to do?" Her voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"I'm… I'm going to go home and have dinner with my daughter." He didn't know what he was going to do.

"Good luck." Her voice seemed to break for a moment. She had experience in this matter, 'was his path clear to her?'

"Thanks…" Vincent waited about four seconds before ending the call. 'And if it was would she have told him?'

From his seat on the edge of his building's roof Vincent half hoped off the edge. Using a service gutter he held himself against the wall of the complex as he slid down. With one hand he caught the railings of other apartments to slow his descent. About four floors down he grabbed a hold of his own railing, and in an instant pulled himself over the railing and onto his balcony.

The sliding door was open, and the blinds were shut. Vincent slipped inside. Shelke was sitting on the couch; she had something in her hand and had obviously been crying. When she saw him enter she dropped what she was holding and ran into him. Her hands stretched around his waist and she began crying into his stomach. Vincent placed both his hands on her back, and slowly began kneeling down to her level.

Between sobs she apologized, "I'm sorry I locked the door." On the ground was her cell phone. Vincent was willing to bet she was about to call him. Maybe relocating to the roof was a bad choice, perhaps he should have stuck it out in the hallway. He just held her tightly and tried to be reassuring.

"I was just on the roof." It felt like she spasmed for a moment. "I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere. You're my daughter and I love you."

She quieted down. "I know… I just…"

He tried to quiet her. He was more concerned with their relationship, their status as father and daughter. Was it still intact? Or was the image cracked? Families argued, but they stuck it out. You can't choose your family, but they had chosen each other. More importantly she had chosen him. Was that enough? Could the water between them ever be thicker than blood?

He hoped so for both their sakes.

* * *

Later that night Vincent picked up his phone to dial. It rang twice before being answered.

"Hello?" called out her sing-song voice.

"Hi."

"Vincent! I wasn't expecting your call so soon. How are you?" she asked. Her voice was quick and light hearted. He could imagine her in her apartment or house leaning against the wall slowly twisting the phone cord in-between her fingers.

Vincent paused for a moment. "Ms. Bell," he started. But it seemed that was all the prompt she needed.

"Oh…"

"Yea…"

"Well uh… I guess it was…" her speech faltered for a moment.

"A pleasure." He finished. "I'm sorry it ended up this way."

She let out a breath before continuing. "Maybe… we can try again once she's older."

"I'm looking forward to it."

With that they concluded their conversation and quickly said their good-byes. Vincent was lying on his couch now staring out the windows onto the ocean. The horizon slowly darkened and moved inwards towards land as the sun set somewhere behind him. Most of the lights in the apartment were off.

Had Shelke's light been on he would have noticed that she was sitting with her back to the door.

* * *

"We should throw a party…" Shelke dead panned. She was sitting over the stove being creative with the omelets, green onions and white chocolate pieces.

Vincent lowered his newspaper and looked over at the stove. "No pepper on mine please. And what do you mean a party?"

"Number three." She replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Meteor day is coming up too…"

_3. Get drunk and reminisce about better times with friends_. 'Thank you Barrett' Vincent thought to himself. It had been decided that every couple years AVALANCHE would reconvene to revisit their exploits and get piss drunk. Vincent looked over at his daughter and dreaded the day 12 years from now when she would be able to drink.

His mind wandered back to number three. Costa Del Sol was as good a place as any to stage such a reunion. Midgar was still under reconstruction, port city, the night-life was fantastic and they had beaches, always a plus.

He flipped his paper back up and searched for the article he was reading on rising mortgage rates. "You make the calls, I'll organize the party."

Shelke let out a 'whoo hoo' of joy, but that just as easily could have been for the bubbling vegetable juice she was pouring on the omelets. Vincent dropped his paper again and watched her dance around before the stove. It actually didn't smell half-bad.

* * *

Surprisingly every one seemed to be just as bored as Shelke. The fourth anniversary of Meteor-Fall was about two weeks away and none of the other respective members of AVALANCHE, the Turks and the WRO seemed to have anything they couldn't cancel. That Vincent's small family seemed to be hosting the party made the whole affair that much more appealing. Lone Vincent and cub.

It was short notice, but he was able to book the second floor of a club down on the beach, called ICE. Bar and dance floor on the first floor and numerous amenities on the second. It overlooked the first, and had a walkway out to the beach. It cost extra for food and bartenders, but that was solved by selling an old shell armlet he picked up along their travels. Most of his old gear was still with him. Almost as good as Gill, not that he had a shortage of that either.

Nearby he rented out around 15 hotel rooms for the party. There would be no media or photographers at this party. Unpublicized and unknown the group would celebrate. Surprisingly, especially to Vincent, he was very much looking forward to the upcoming party.

* * *

Vincent wandered from his kitchen back to the living room, apple in hand.

_Time seemed to fly for Vincent. When he was not working or keeping busy with Shelke his mind always seemed to wander back to the party and their upcoming reunion. But the arrangements were made, and everything was set. Caterers were paid, rooms rented, transportation arranged… There was little left to do. Of course Vincent and Shelke each received numerous invitations to similar parties from their respective fellows, but they had all been turned down, no _

_explanation given. For now their status in relation to AVALANCHE and the WRO would remain a secret. _

He jumped down onto the couch, his feet hanging over the side.

_Shelke for the most part seemed to be going through exactly what Vincent was feeling. At least for the first week. About four days before the party she began work on a new project, and managed to hole herself up in her room for roughly two days solid. She was there now. At various points she would emerge and ask some absurd questions about Omega or Sephiroth , but apart from that she seemed to be keeping to herself. When he asked, she replied she was trying to finish an essay for class. _

Remote in hand, he flipped the TV onto one of the movie channels. Wutaian Ninja Strike 3 was playing on one of the premium channels. Black Mask had just put a ninja star in the face of some random Shinobi, saving the Red Blood Ninja from an ambush.

_And that would bring him back to Josephine Bell, a name he was trying to put behind him… or rather store away for a later date. _

He quickly flipped the channel onto the news; apparently the syndicated global news was issuing an AVALANCHE watch. The world, it seems**,** would like to see how they got together on the anniversary of their victory. Hopefully they wouldn't be found out before the party.

From the other room Vincent heard a small thump and a series of small thuds, sounding suspiciously like a 9 year old girl jumping down from a computer chair and racing around her room. Shelke emerged a few moments later shoes on and purse in hand.

"Come on! Lets go!" she exclaimed.

"Where are we going now?" Vincent asked turning off the TV and moving towards the door.

"You need to take me dress shopping." She said with a smile. "We have 2 days to Meteor-Fall, and I have nothing to wear." She stated plainly, hands clasped behind her back, her head tilted to the side and twisting one toe in the ground. If he didn't know for a fact she was in fact 19, he'd never have known.

"I don't suppose you'll take no for an answer." He asked slipping some walking shoes on.

"Only if you want to see a little girl cry." She replied smartly. Vincent scoffed and held the door open for her as they left. "So what were you planning on wearing?"

"I don't know." Vincent replied thoughtfully. "I was thinking of just going leather-jacket-cool." He said, drawing out the cool.

It was Shelke's turn to scoff, "Sorry, shouldn't have asked."

* * *

Shelke's choice of dress was needless to say shocking. In Vincent's humble opinion she looked like a pink and white multi-layered cake. And so the two waited at the entrance of ICE's second floor, a bouncer in tow. The bulk of the group would arrive at once, the rest would probably filter in before it became too late.

Vincent once again found himself in an un-tucked island-print button shirt with white khakis and black dress shoes. Shelke sitting next to her father on a barstool looked like a wedding cake. A full dress with pink short sleeves that went down to her feet. There was enough white and pink frill and lace on the girl to drown Mideel. Why she'd ever choose a dress so outlandishly 'girlish' was beyond Vincent, but he held his tongue. Just behind them the room opened up to a bar and buffet along with all the other amenities Vincent sprung for.

The first to arrive were the assorted passengers of Cid's newest airship. Cloud, Tifa, Reno, Rude, Cid, Shera and Red XII. They were followed closely by Barret, Marlene and Denzel, who came via the train from Corel. Shalua, Tseng and Elena took a cab from the docks where their boat was docked. About 10 minutes later Yuffie skipped towards them already within the room to announce she had arrived some time ago. Vincent wasn't altogether keen to figure out how she got passed him. Yuffie, being closest in age with Shelke, became enamored in her dress, and the ensuing conversation made Vincent want to beat his head into the wall. From the look on the bouncer's face he was along the inclination. While Yuffie in no way considered herself feminine, she was very vocal in what she thought constituted cute or girlish. Reeve and a remote controlled Cait Sith were the last to arrive. But no sooner did he greet his old friend than his eyes were once again drawn to the bottom of the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs where the room opened into the rest of the bar stood a woman. She was blond with green eyes, and wore a short white and red tropical dress. Every time he had seen her since that first night she had been in more formal attire. This was the first time he noticed her hair was growing in some. She stood at the bottom of the stairs with her purse held firmly in both hands.

Vincent's jaw almost dropped when he saw her. Reeve who was shaking his hand turned around to see what was bothering him. Shelke ran down the stairs and embraced her teacher. She was quietly whispering to the young girl all the while keeping eye-contact with Vincent. Yuffie glanced between the two and let out a giggle before taking Reeve's arm and reentering the room.

The two were still whispering to each other when they came up the stairs and joined the party, but it was Vincent that held her gaze the entire time. Vincent could hear the introductions from outside. Turning to the bouncer Vincent indicated he was going inside, he in turn gave him a nod that seemed to say good luck and or have fun.

* * *

Vincent stared at his glass. The brown liquid seemed to jostle around some as the cubes re-shifted. So far the party was a hit, everyone was talking and having a good time. Josephine was standing next to the railing over-looking the dance floor conversing with Elena and Rude. They had greeted each other earlier, but that was it. For a moment he was lost in a stare, but Tifa was kind enough to bring him out of it.

"Gil for your thoughts?"

Vincent took a sip of his drink before he replied. "Why invite her?"

Tifa took a sip of her own beer, bending over the bar in mock contemplation. "Maybe… your daughter is a complete and utter bitch and wants to rub her in your face…" Vincent let out a scoff. "Or perhaps, she wanted to be the one to initiate her into our little world… You know… Take some control of the situation…"

Vincent looked over at Shelke who was sitting with Shalua, Denzel and Marlene. His daughter seemed to delight in all the attention her dress was getting from the other two girls, while Denzel seemed eager to jump out of his seat at the first opportunity.

"Did you know this would happen?" Vincent asked.

Tifa took a final drink from her beer before placing the empty bottle on the bar. "No." She replied plainly, turning briefly to signal the barmen for a new beer. "Shelke is a much better person than I was at that age." Tifa blinked a moment and brought the fresh beer half way up before correcting, "When I was in her age." Again the beer went half up. "When I was as old as she looks." She stated finally, and took a sip of her beer.

Vincent turned his gaze back to Tifa, "Are you sloshed." It was more of a statement than a question. She just smiled.

Yuffie walked up behind Tifa and sat down at the bar. Tifa turned towards the bar. "I will have a… Margarita, crushed." Yuffie told the barmen.

"She'll have a virgin daiquiri." Vincent corrected.

"Extra virgin." Tifa added in.

Yuffie pouted and took a sip of her drink. "You're no fun."

"You'll have plenty of fun in two years when you're old enough."

"Will you two come out and drink with me in two years?"

"Ask me again in two years." Vincent replied.

Tifa just laughed. "You sure you'll still want to keep hanging out with a couple old fogies like us in two years?"

Yuffie placed a hand on her chin in contemplation. "I'll have to think about that… Hey Vincent, Shelke is technically 19-"

"No." Vincent said flat out, then finished his drink. Yuffie and Tifa just laughed. "I'll be happiest if I could just lock her in a box away from the media, boys and bad influences." He said looking pointedly at Yuffie.

"Don't look at me. Tifa's the one that's drunk." It was Vincent's turn to laugh. They never had the witty banter when they were on the road to Sephiroth. It took three years after that for Vincent to open up.

Vincent turned back and looked around the room once again. His gaze caught on Josephine still at the windows. She glanced over at him for a moment and smiled before turning back to her own conversation. Tifa was talking. "Sorry, what was that?"

"You going to ask her to dance?"

"I don't dance. Vincent replied."

"No time like the present to try something out of the ordinary." Yuffie chimed in, a small smile on her face. Tifa too had gone silent with a smirk playing on her lips.

Vincent looked between the two. _Do something out of the ordinary, or out of character._ That was of course number 20 on his list. Written by Tifa as a supplement to the much disputed number 19 by Yuffie. _Fall in Love_. At first everyone had laughed at that particular item. Various arguments broke out, you can't go looking for love; should be unexpected; etc. etc. But for the most part everyone involved quieted down after number 20 was added. A silent assent that you had to put an odd foot forward to pursue what you want. Few things in life fall right into your lap. Without the work and effort, it seemed almost counter to the expected result.

Vincent finished his drink and set it down. Quickly he ran his fingers through his hair, rearranging it quickly. He looked over to Tifa who gave him a smile, and Yuffie with a thumbs up. He got up from his stool and immediately felt a smile tug at his face. He tried to push it down but was only able to suppress the wide grin to a slight smile.

As he made his way across the room he felt like every eye was on him, which wouldn't have been an inaccurate statement.

* * *

It was close to 11PM now. In roughly six hours the fourth anniversary of meteor-fall would be over. After about half an hour of dancing Vincent found himself and Josephine over-looking the 

ocean behind the club. Standing against the railing they watched the waves illuminated by the moon.

But there were a few things Vincent was curious about. "If you don't mind my asking…" Vincent began, "how did you hear about this?"

"Shelke invited me… sort of…"

So Shelke did invite her, it answered some questions but raised others. "Sort of?"

"Well there is a paper due in class next Friday. She was kind enough to turn it into me three days ago." That must have been the paper she had been working on most of this past week. "'Write about your favorite member of AVALANCHE'. And she chose you." _Not many others would._ "Most of the kids will probably write about how Tifa met Cloud, or how scientific experiments on animals was wrong, or about the environment and Barret. Stuff like that. Her opening lines were: 'The day I met Vincent Valentine was one of the most embarrassing days of my life. Our assault on Edge went exactly as planned. We had intercepted Valentine in a shop near the town square, and as I was preparing to engage, my monitor synapses went wild and I fainted. I forgot to close them before I left our transport, and when one of our jet-copters was destroyed over the town the feed-back gave me quite a shock, and in a most embarrassing manner I was carried home."

Vincent chuckled for a moment. "You see I never understood why she fainted…"

"She gave a run through of the Deep-Ground war, and ended by explaining your list, and giving the address of this place." She laughed for a moment then bit her lip before continuing. "She also mentioned that if you were serious you might do something out of character like dance or sing."

"Out of character?" Vincent replied, raising an eye brow.

She shined Vincent with a bright smile. "You weren't half bad, but it does seem out of the ordinary for the famous loner Vincent Valentine."

"Ah, but that's not me anymore." He replied evenly.

"You're not famous?"

"I'm not a loner."

She smiled at him before asking, "What else was on the list? I read through it quickly before I left but…" Vincent reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. Folded inside was the list. Without a word he handed it over. "Now lets see…

1. Find a job that does not involve killing and or maiming people

2. Get your own place and keep a room mate

3. Get drunk and reminisce about better times with friends

4. Take time out of each day to appreciate your surroundings, and all that you possess

5. Stop carrying around a gun

6. Get on a bus or train and see where it goes

7. Run a marathon for a charity

8. Collect Something

9. Develop a sense of humor

10. Stage an all night marathon of something normal people do

11. Have a one-night stand

12. Make small talk with someone who could use the company.

13. Dress like a sane person

14. Keep your identity a secret for as long as possible

15. Get a non-work related hobby

16. Become a wizard in the kitchen

17. Blow your money on something you've always wanted

18. Use your status as a hero to get laid

19. Fall in love

20. Do something random, or unexpected

You're nearly finished." She looked up at Vincent before turning back to the list. "Numbers 18, 19 and 20… scratch that, just numbers 18 and 19."

"And those last two may just prove to be the most difficult." He replied.

"You see that's what I liked about you. Most men in your position would have number 18 crossed out by now… But not you…" She looked at him, her eyes conveyed some level of sadness or reverie. "I knew it the first moment I laid eyes on you. I knew you had some reason, a good reason to keep Shelke from changing schools. You were different from the rest." Gently she placed her hands on his chest and began to lean in towards him. "You'll never be normal, 

like the rest of them." Vincent closed his eyes in parallel to hers. Tenderly her lips touched his. Shock, electricity, fireworks, take your pick. When his eyes opened again his arms were wrapped around her, her own around his neck. "You're just so much better. I've always known you were a hero. I just didn't know you were the Vincent Valentine."

He felt lighter, as if that simple confession had released something within him, something that had held him back for so long. Their eyes met and they held each other's gaze. For the first time in a long time Vincent felt alive, felt like he could take a deep breath of air. He felt as he did so many years ago, like he could climb mountains and conquer worlds. He truly felt alive, and he wasn't about to let that go. Tenderly he trace a hand up her arm along side her neck and stopped at her chin. Gently holding her he closed his eyes and leaned in, she met him half way, and never left him since.

* * *

A/N

Wow... One night I just thought this up and started writing, I only got half way through before late night exhaustion set in. It feels great to write something again, imagine some storyline and solve their problems, write and agonize over words and structure. This story went through a variety of changes, a number of which were credit to my beta KairiChan, without whom the ending would have been significantly different. I for one always wondered what the various characters would have gone through adjusting to normal life, or the further adventures they would have had, and such is what I had imagined for Vincent following Dierge of Cerberus.

With my masters going on, and staring a new job I'm finding it harder and harder to find time for myself or hobbies such as this. But I am going to make the effort. Maybe Finc. and PoliSci were wrong and I should have done creative writing. I had so many ideas for this series. FF7 was the first game I ever played with a real storyline, everything else before then were shooters and action games. For me anyways it inspired a sense of patience for storylines, and dialogue I simply did not have before. Instead of sleeping between action scenes I began listening.

Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this story, its been the first in a long while but hopefully not the last. Again I would like to thank my beta KairiChan without whom this would have been much lamer. If you could, please review and let me know what you thought. I'd love to know what you thought and hear your feedback. I hope you enjoyed the story!

-Iflytez


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